Tears of the Sun
by Youkai kagami
Summary: Angstdrama based on the plot twist of Dylan's death. Mainly to try out a new genre, and to see how I can do character development. On hold for the moment.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Well, well. A new fic from me. Let's see – I have the Stargate one that's on hold (read the last chapter of it to find out why); the Naruto fic that I have resigned myself to having writer's block for…but, with the help of some good friends, am doing the rest of the chapters; the Silmarillion fic that the computer that has all the files for that story (and I had just written a few more chapters to post, too!) has temporarily died; and now this. Not sure where I'll go with it…probably it'll end up being a test piece – you know, growing as a writer and all.

Tears of the Sun 

Alone.

Lost.

Afraid.

She struggled through the threads of slipstream, lost in her own universe of pain. He was gone. Dead. Never again would she see that old familiar sparkle in his eyes. Never again hear his voice. Never again smell his very essence in the air.

Blinded by sorrow, she wandered through the stream, not caring if she lived or died, no longer ashamed of the tears running unheeded down her face, blurring her vision. She had not left the pilot's seat for hours, had not taken a break from the demanding task of piloting the web.

She was the best, but she didn't even bother to figure out where she was going. She didn't care. It didn't matter. He had always said that she seemed to be one with the nexus they traveled in, and now she was making herself a permanent part of those tangled threads, intending nothing but to loose herself forever in them, and perhaps to forget the pain of the past.

She had been in them for so long, she didn't even know where she was, or how far she had traveled. She didn't care, either. All that mattered was that she was running. Running from the memories. Running from all sense of reality. Running from him.

She threw the bonsai tree against the wall. **"WHY?"** she screamed. "Why couldn't I find it?" She smashed him fists against the deck as she fell to her knees, screaming out her anger and sorrow to the universe. Tears poured down her face, and she tore the branches from the fallen tree. "Why couldn't I see it? It was there! I know it was! I couldn't see it, though; I couldn't save him…" she broke down, sobbing her heart out, further mutilating her beloved tree.

She looked at her other plants, her family, and a rage grew in her. She took them one by one, and destroyed them. Killing them in every way she knew how. Pulling off their branches. Cutting them to pieces. Smashing delicate flowers and bulbs into pulp beneath the shards of pottery littering the floor.

Then, she saw it. Her ever-falling tears had landed on the bonsai, and it was growing again. With a passionate scream, she viciously tore it apart again, and threw the splintered remains across the room.

Her rage was as fresh as that of her friend had been. And, now, she was feeling the emptiness that came from all her anger gone, all her energy depleted. She sat back on her heels, and sobbed. Cried for her poor dead plants. Cried for herself. Cried for him.

"The four steps of grief are thus. Disbelief. Anger. Depression. And, finally, acceptance." As she said this, her brown eyes were filled with tears from the tear ducts she had once professed not to know how to use. The man opposite her shook his head. "Beka must be in depression mode, by now. I wonder where she is." He looked to the woman. "You and I accept it. Beka's depressed. Rhade is…Rhade. How is Trance, though? Do we know how she's taking it? The two of them were really close." The brown head shook emphatically. "She has engaged privacy mode. But, knowing Trance…I think she's finally gotten over her disbelief. That means, she is angry."

The blonde's shoulders slumped. "How did this all happen? What did we do to deserve this? What did HE do to deserve it?"

The message came in the next day. A memorial service was to be held. All of them were "strongly invited to attend". Read between the lines. They were ordered to attend. But that meant they had to find Beka. And now, they also had to find Trance. They had two days to find their friends and bring them back from the brink.

A/N: Ooooh, angst! New genre for me…have to see how it works out! Ciao!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I am listening to depressing music as I write this, so that I can be really angsty – not very good at that! Please tell me how I am doing with this new genre…PLEASE!

Forgot this last time:

Disclaimer: I, poor pathetic mortal, do not own Andromeda. If I did, this would be the season finale or something…and only in the next season premier would you find out that it was a dream or something…but it's not. I don't own it. –cries-

Tears of the Sun 

**Painful Reminders**

With a jolt, she came out of slipstream into a low orbit around an obscure moon. And collapsed, unconscious, out of the pilot's chair. The hours – probably even days – had taken their toll on her, even as skilled as she was in piloting the stream. An observer would have seen shoulder-length blonde hair spewed across the metal grates on the floor of the salvage ship's cockpit, blood slowly spreading from a small cut on the smooth forehead onto it's tangled golden strands.

She woke several hours later to the sound of a loud alarm inside her ship. She sat up, briefly disoriented, and groped the arm of the pilot's chair in an attempt to stand. Leaning heavily on it, she pressed the button that was obstinately blinking. A message appeared on the screen, stating that the people of the moon were scanning her, and small ships – not slip-capable – were coming to investigate her presence in their system.

She slumped into her seat, and grabbed a bottle of Sparky Cola. Cracking it open, she hailed the inbound ships. "This is Captain Beka Valentine in the Eureka Maru. I mean you no harm," she said over the open channel, her voice despondent and barely over a whisper. A face blinked onto her screen, and it was all she could do to keep from crying. "Captain Valentine! Welcome to Ymir! How well we remember the configuration of your ship – our father traveled here with you, am I correct?"

She nodded mutely, as the overly cheerful young man continued, "We would be pleased if you would join us on the moon's surface – would you?" She barely managed a strangled "Yes" before closing the channel.

Ymir. Where Dylan had fathered an entire race. Where every single person on that planet would remind her of him. Where she would have to do the most painful of all military duties – tell someone's family that their loved one had died. Why the hell had she come here? How, out of all the possible places, had her intuition taken her here? The answer came to her, as one by one, the ships on her screen exploded into fireballs, and a Neitzchean cruiser came out of the shadows of the moon. She was here to fight the battles others couldn't.

"Dylan," she whispered, "I wish I had never met you." With that, she turned the Maru toward the ship. "You spiny-armed bastards, I'm gonna kill you today. For what you did to him. For what you did to me."

She knew it was a suicide mission. Her salvage ship against a Neitzchean heavy cruiser. She also knew that there could be no hope for backup – she had covered her tracks well so that the Andromeda couldn't find her – and she knew that the Ymirian ships were no match for the battle-eager pride before her. Knowing the Drago-Katsov, they would have back up. Knowing Neitzcheans, they wouldn't care. Knowing her ship and her desperation, she'd make one hell of a dent. Going out in a blaze of glory, like he had.

"This is it, boys. You don't mess with a Valentine. Ever." And she hid her ship in the atmosphere of the moon, hoping to mask her energy signature for a sneak attack. The only way she was going to make a mark on this genetically engineered slime was if she took them off guard. After they got a lock on her, she wouldn't last long. All the evasive maneuvers in the seven galaxies wouldn't save her butt with experts in war.

"All, right, baby. Let's prove Dylan wrong about you one last time." With tears streaming down her cheeks and blood trickling from her left temple, she powered up her weapons. "You're not just a bucket of blots. You can be a warship just like Andromeda. We'll prove it. You Neitzchean bastards – eat this!"

"I can find no trace of the Maru on my active sensors. She has literally disappeared," Andromeda intoned from the

"NO!" Harper paced the command deck, thinking out loud. "She woulda left a signal, a directional marker, ANYTHING! Beka," he turned to the screen, "where the hell are you?"

Trance walked onto Obs deck in blind fury. "YOU!" she accused the stars staring out at her from the "window" "It's all YOUR fault that he isn't here any more! You hate me, you hate him, you've thrown everything in our way that you possibly could! You didn't want us to succeed! I HATE YOU! I HATE ME! I hate…" she broke down crying, and collapsed on the bench and sobbed her final word "…everything."

The hulking Neitzchean sat unnoticed in the corner, watching as the gold-skinned girl cried her heart out. He stared at his hands, for the first time in his life, unsure of what to do. The Neitzchean thing to do would have been to accept his friend's death (after all, he was just a kludge), and take his rightful place as captain of the Andromeda Ascendant. In the past, he had never hesitated to make the Neitzchean choice, and it had caused a lot of arguments with Dylan. Dylan…he shook his head in an effort to remove not only the memories flashing before his eyes, but the tears clouding them. He knew what his mentor and friend would have told him, what he would have done. He knew what his predecessor would have done, would have told him to do. His Neitzchean side collapsed under a wave of what he recognized as fully human compassion and sorrow.

He walked over to the huddled figure on the bench, and put his arms around her heaving shoulders. "I know, Trance, I know. Just cry. It'll be alright." She buried her face in his leather shirt and sobbed "But it's my fault! There was a perfect possible future, and I couldn't see it! I let him die!" She raised her tear-stained face to his, and he softly pushed her tousled locks back down onto his chest, more firmly enwrapping her in his arms.

"It isn't your fault. Just like it isn't my fault. Just like it isn't Rommie's, or Harper's, or Beka's. It was his fate to die that day, just like it will one day be ours. He died bravely, like a true warrior." As he said this, trying to comfort the small, gold-clad figure huddling in his arms, a tear dropped from his eye.

Another followed, and another, and soon he was crying as much as she. His tears fell freely down his face, and landed in Trance's hair. She looked up, and brushed them from his cheeks with her small thumb, and whispered, "Why, Telemachus Rhade, I do believe you're crying."

A/N: No, this is NOT a Rhade/Trance fic – never will be. Can't really see a relationship between the two of them, plus, this is not designed to be romantic…just in case any of you were wondering. I like writing angst. It's interesting to explore the different emotions of the characters. Hope I made them believable!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Really not sure where I want this one to go…so, if things get a bit confusing, bear with me. Because some of my friends -glares at person – you know who you are! - Are confused as to exactly what's happening, here's a brief summary. Dylan died fighting Neitzcheans, Beka is in mode depressive and is about to die, fighting Neitzcheans (gee, those bad boys sure get around!), Trance is uber-angry (she'll go nova any minute), Rhade is…compassionate…Harper has accepted the death, and Rommie is Rommie.

Oh, and I am putting part separators in, but the website isn't putting them up. I'll see what I can do about making this clearer.

Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be, all that mandatory stuff.

Tears of the Sun 

**Deathly Thoughts**

It had been ages since she had cried herself to sleep. Nothing had been quite sad enough, though heaven knew that her destiny was fraught with sorrow. She drifted in a dream, seeing him again, seeing him laugh, seeing him cry, seeing him angry, seeing him overflowing with joy. She smiled in her sleep, and felt his arms close tighter around her. Except, did his arms have sharp points on them?

Trance woke up to find herself still cradled in Telemachus' arms. "You slept for a long time," he smiled down at her, "did you dream?" She nodded, and whispered through the lump in her throat that threatened to bring tears anew, "I dreamt of him." Rhade brushed away the stray tear that had escaped, despite her best efforts, and pushed her hair back from her face. "That first night after he was gone, I did, too. Andromeda would tell us that it is a common occurrence, I am sure, to dream of a friend after he is gone." She smiled weakly at his attempt at humour, and his passable imitation of Rommie's impassivity. She stood, and he almost reluctantly released her from his embrace. He sat back and watched her stride to the "window", and stare out at the endless universe. She pointed to a star, a mere blip of light, and said, "Rommie, would you please magnify that one? Then return to privacy mode." The warship brought to view the blazing glory of the sun, then announced "Privacy mode re-engaged."

Trance spoke again, and he wasn't sure whether it was to the star or to him. "Sometimes," she began, "one finds a certain solace in knowing that this universe is bigger than one's self, that all of this is nothing compared to a lifetime of a star. I know I always do, when I look at one of my sisters. Do you know, Telemachus, "she continued without turning, "how often I long to be like them? How many times I wish I could just sit impassively in space, and not care who lived or died?"

"Why don't you, then?" he broke in.

"I gave up that choice long ago. I wanted to be able to know the people of the worlds I guarded, to meet them, to share their joys and sorrows. Unfortunately, the joys are few, and the sorrows many. Over the millennia, I have lost so many people. You would think," she choked over her tears, "that after all those deaths, after loosing everyone again and again, that death wouldn't hurt anymore. And yet, every time someone who I know dies, I feel the pain as fresh as the first time."

For him, it was as if he stood outside of himself, listening to her words, watching himself go over to her and enwrap her in muscled arms. He quickly returned, though, as he felt her turn to face him and wrap her arms around his torso. "It always hurts for myself, as well, Trance, although I choose not to show it. I know how you feel. Shhhh," he whispered as she began to cry again, "it's going to be all right. It's going to be all right."

"Damn!" Beka cursed aloud as she fought to keep the slipstream core stable. With steam billowing everywhere, and mere minutes until the Maru would blow, she suddenly wished for Harper. He would know exactly what to do to fix what he affectionately called "the rust bucket". But Harper was back at the Andromeda, probably trashing another machine shop.

He had been the first to discover Dylan's death, and she and Rommie had found him in Machine Shop 4, destroying all his creations. He was swearing, berating himself, and breaking things left and right. It turned out; he had disintegrated everything in his quarters before moving on to the shop. Actually, shops. He had trashed two by the time they found him, and another by the time they got him sedated.

When she had last seen him, he had been in sickbay, in a carefully monitored state of unconsciousness, until Trance could say for sure whether or not he was fully "over" Dylan's death. Rommie's reaction had been nearly the same – with one minor exception. Instead of destroying her own possessions, she had obliterated over half of the assembled Neitzchean fleet, and crippled the remaining ships. Only Trance had been able to get her out of her berserk state.

Trance. As she worked to seal the ruptures in her hull, Beka pondered on Trance's reaction. Rommie and Harper had gone to the brink of insanity, Rhade had sealed himself in his cabin (he had come out at one point, and Trance had discovered multiple empty bottles of high quality Neitzchean liquor in his vacated quarters), and she had run away, but Trance…

No one had been closer in Dylan's confidences than the little gold girl. In fact…Beka was unable to finish her thought, as the masculine voice of the Maru's computer intoned suddenly: "Warning. Target lock."

With a vehement curse, Beka finished off her haphazard welding job, and ran to her pilot's chair. Her hand went to the controls for slipstream out of habit, but she quickly withdrew them. With the core in the way that it was, she'd explode before she reached the event horizon. Damn the fact that Harper was still on the Andromeda. Damn the fact that she hadn't bothered to repair the salvage ship after their fatal run-in with the Neitzcheans. Damn her impulsiveness in running away.

The beam of energy from the heavy cruiser came crackling through space towards her. She tried to input an evasive manoeuvre, but her controls were locked. She resigned herself to death, and everything started to move in slow motion. Even the small Ymirian transport ship that imposed itself between her and the weapon. Even her scream of "NO!" as one of Dylan's children exploded into dust. Then, time snapped back to normal, and she was crying and bleeding and cursing and firing, and…

Wow.

Harper's retrofit of the Eureka Maru's weapons was not at all shabby. The heavy cruiser was gone. Space dust. Unfortunately, Beka knew that there would be another one either in the system or on it's way there. Neitzcheans always had back doors to escape through. Always. At least, she had enough time to recharge her batteries that had been nearly drained by that one blast of amazing weaponry, and to work on her slipstream drive. Thank goodness for small favours.

Before she headed aft, Beka took one last look at the debris that was the mingled remains of the Ymirian and Neitzchean ships. Damn those spiny-armed bastards. They'd pay double for everything. She swore on Dylan's grave to let no more Ymirians die, or die herself in the process.

"Alright, so…here's the plan."

"I'm listening, Harper," the impassive, if a little amused brunette android interjected.

"I know you are, Rom-doll, just let me finish." Rommie rolled her eyes at Harper's endearment, and relaxed slightly to listen to his speech.

"As I was saying," Harper cleared his throat, "the plan is to send a message to Terazed, saying that we have engine problems. Uhhh…the…oh, the slipstream core! Yeah, the slipstream core is malfunctioning, and we'll all go 'Kaboom' in a grand display of fireworks if we dare to enter the stream. You still with me, your gorgeousness?"

"I'm listening, Harper."

"Good. Now, after we send that professional message, we'll get Trance to close her eyes, snap her fingers, click her heels or whatever it is she does that turns her into an organic missing crewperson locater, and find Beka. Then, we get our asses into whatever hellhole she's gotten herself into, then dispatch another message to Terazed saying that the core has magically healed itself (thanks to the genius of Seamus Zelazney Harper, which Dylan ALWAYS forgot to say), and we are on our way to the funeral. Tada! Brilliant, huh?"

Rommie nodded speculatively. "I'll modify the messages so that they make sense, but either than that, I think your plan will work perfectly, Harper!" With that, she kissed him on the bridge of his nose, and walked off.

The engineer wavered, then plopped down on the deck. "I'm in heaven!" he murmured, touching his nose.

Rommie turned as the door to the command deck swished open. A calmer looking Trance and a sober looking Rhade walked in, practically arm in arm, and took their stations. "Rommie," Trance said softly, "I know where Beka is."

The android, the hologram, and the face on the screen nodded in unison, and the screen said: "Please give me the coordinates, Trance."

The gold girl shook her head. "I don't know the coordinates. I just know where she is. I can see her, I can see her surroundings, but I don't recognize them." Rhade furrowed his brow, and then queried, "Would you be able to find them on a star map?" Picking up his vein, Rommie began bringing up maps of various areas of space. "If I magnify given sections of space enough, you can look through the systems and point out the one where Beka is!"

Trance sighed. "That will take far too long. I must pilot there myself."

No one had noticed Harper's presence until he blurted out, "But doesn't even being in slipstream make you sick? And we know what piloting does to you…Mmmphfff…"

Trance had her hand over his mouth, and turned sadly to face the view screen. "I must. It's the only way to find Beka in time."

Harper shook her off, and went to the doors. "I'll be with my engines, if anyone needs me. Which, no doubt you will, seeing as I am the one…" his voice trailed off into the corridor as the door whooshed shut. "Rhade," Rommie said, stopping the broad-shouldered Neitzchean before he could take his accustomed station. "You are the most senior Commonwealth officer aboard me. You must take command."

"No." He replied. "I don't think the same as a captain does. I don't have Harper's genius, Trance's intuition, Beka's talent, or your knowledge. I'm not right to replace Dylan." Trance grabbed onto his arm, and, with surprising strength, turned him to face her. "You may not be what Dylan was, but you are the best man for this job. We trust you. Now, it's up to you. Are you going to betray that trust by turning down the position of leadership? Or, will you accept this and be the commanding officer of this ship?"

Rhade blinked down at her. "You must choose, Telemachus, and choose quickly. Beka does not have much more time." He nodded slowly. "I will take command. But only temporarily – and I expect you all to give me your expertise." Rommie nodded curtly. "You are correct, Rhade. This must be a joint endeavour."

Trance smiled at Rhade, and released him. She slid into the pilot's "chair", and began adjusting the controls. "Slipstream, please, Rommie."

The computer replied, "Slipstream, aye."

"I just hope we're not too late," Trance whispered before she gave herself over to the grasping threads of the stream.

A/N: Well, the finale of another chapter. I think I'm switching viewpoints too often…but, now it'll just be two instead of three. Unless something else happens…I think I can actually see where this one is going to end, unlike some of my other stories! W00t! So, please review! It really helps me write! As you can read, part of this chapter was inspired by a review! Until next chapter, adios!


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